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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24762550">Breaking Up Is Never Easy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malfi1230/pseuds/Malfi1230'>Malfi1230</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Betrayal, Fights, Hurt, Hurt Alec Lightwood, Hurt Magnus Bane, Love, M/M, Post-Betrayal, Post-Break Up, Rescue, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Whump</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:46:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,416</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24762550</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malfi1230/pseuds/Malfi1230</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This work takes place in the world of the Mortal Instruments books, while Magnus and Alec are broken up after Alec's dealings with Camille Belcourt. Just some short, invented hijinks for the two of them, on their own. Magnus is angry. Alec is miserable. Both of them still love each other.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>109</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Demons on the Cliffs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Magnus flung a blue spear of power into the sky, and one of the winged demons came hurtling down to earth with a satisfying crash, but there was a multitude to take its place. The swarm had appeared as suddenly as a summer thunderstorm, and if Magnus had to guess, he’d suppose that they had been sent here through some form of demonic portal by some Greater Demon the Shadowhunters had happened to piss off.</p><p>
	All in all, it was not turning out to be a great day.</p><p>
	To make matters worse, Magnus was stuck in this (literally) hellish day with <i>Alexander Gideon Lightwood,</i> Magnus Bane’s ex-boyfriend. Of course, Magnus had a number of ex-boyfriends (and ex-girlfriends), and with several notable exceptions, he generally was on decent terms with them. But this one was… exceptional. For starters, the wound was still quite fresh, particularly if you measured your life in centuries rather than decades, as Magnus did. And the break-up had not been amicable, to put it lightly. Magnus supposed it was understandable for a mortal to struggle with the fact that his lover was immortal. It was also understandable for a mortal to push back against the secrets of an immortal lover’s past. Less understandable was said mortal’s willing conspiracy with an ex-lover-turned-psychopath-enemy to learn some of those secrets. And discussion with said psychopath to remove Magnus’s immortality. <i>Even if he did eventually think better of that last bit.</i></p><p>
	Camille Belcourt. Truly, she was the shitty gift that kept on shitting.</p><p>
	After the break-up, Magnus had tried to maintain his professionalism. The Shadowworld was small enough that run-ins with Alexander were inevitable, but Magnus had a living to make. So when the Clave asked him to accompany a Shadowhunter to England to investigate a spate of potentially demon-related violence in an unlikely location—a small, sleepy seaside village—and lend his magic to the investigation, Magnus had agreed to do so for fair compensation. No one had thought to mention that that Shadowhunter was Alexander. Judging by the consternation on Alec’s face when they were both briefed before their departure, no one had thought to mention it to him either.</p><p>
	What had hurt most, of course, was the automatic reaction Magnus couldn’t suppress to Alec’s face. Even when he was angry and hurt and kept telling himself over and over that he was <i>done</i> with Alexander Lightwood, part of him was glad to have the chance to see him.</p><p>
	The initial part of the mission had gone smoothly, if incredibly awkwardly. They had portaled to an isolated portion of the Cliffs of Dover. This section was blocked off from the public as unsafe due to erosion, and in any case, it was too cold a time of year for tourists or sightseers on the windswept rocks. The two men had hiked carefully off the cliffs and down into the town; Magnus had maintained a stony silence while Alec took sensor readings and spoke to several witnesses. They had confirmed that the violence was indeed demon-related and had a good sense of what kind of demons were involved. They were heading back up to the privacy of the isolated cliffs to portal home, and Magnus was hoping they could get back to New York without Alec trying to apologize (again), and without any misadventures of a more life-threatening variety.</p><p>
	Which was of course when all hell broke loose.</p><p>
	The sky had filled suddenly with screeching cries and a bevy of feathers and scales, and sharp talons had swept down towards them. Alec, without missing a beat, had drawn his bow and begun firing, and Magnus launched his own attacks only a few moments afterward. Alec was a strong fighter, and Magnus was a powerful warlock, and soon the cliffs were littered with demon corpses. But they were hopelessly outnumbered, and the winged demons had forced them closer and closer to the cliff’s edge. Magnus could feel his strength beginning to fail. He was running out of magic.</p><p>
	“Stay close,” Alec called over the tumult, and Magnus felt the urge to scream. <i>He’s issuing orders? Really? Now?</i></p><p>
	“Stay close?!?” he shouted. “That’s the plan? I don’t think our proximity to each other is the problem!”</p><p>
	“Magnus, I am talking about the ground. There is a reason these cliffs are blocked off from the public. Stay away from the edge.” Alec barely looked at him, far too focused on the dive-bombing demons. Magnus felt like a child throwing a tantrum, which paradoxically made him feel more inclined to tantrum.</p><p>
	“We aren’t going to live long enough for the cliff to collapse!” he shouted back. He threw a look over his shoulder at the edge and the sea beyond. Magnus could see, out over the water, another wave of creatures approaching. Suddenly, all he wanted was a little distance from Alec and his Shadowhunter commands. “You ‘stay close’ here!” he spat to Alec, and pointed out at the approaching swarm. “I am going to head those off.” He strode angrily towards the cliff’s edge.</p><p>
“Magnus, really, don’t…”</p><p>
	But Magnus was in no mood to listen, despite the oft-ignored rational corner of his mind that told him that perhaps he ought. That corner of his mind was pointing out how deeply depleted his magic was, how many demons circled above, and how precarious their position was becoming. But these sensible observations were nothing to the rushing flood of resentment that was filling Magnus. Why was he here? Why was he standing on the Cliffs of Dover with homicidal demons circling overhead? Why was he forced to fight side by side with the Shadowhunter with whom he couldn’t convince himself to fall out of love? <i>It certainly isn’t the money. The Clave is manned exclusively by cheapskates.</i> He stepped defiantly to the edge of the cliffs, his hands above him, sketching blue symbols in the air. <i>Damn Nephilim. I’ll show you how to banish demons.</i> </p><p>
	He felt a slight give beneath his feet, and the soft sound of trickling sand.</p><p>
	<i>Oh. Shit.</i> Alec’s cautionary words seemed suddenly quite reasonable. </p><p>
	“Magnus, don’t move!” Alec commanded from behind him, and this time, Magnus obeyed, freezing in place. “Just don’t move. I’m coming.”</p><p>
Before he could beg Alec to stay where he was, the ground dissolved beneath Magnus as part of the cliff crumbled away, and he lost his footing on the shifting chalk. He tumbled forward into empty air, and time seemed to slow. </p><p>
For a moment, Magnus’s mind froze, and then began moving at rapid fire. He thought desperately for something—some spell, some trick—that could arrest his fall, but when his lips began muttering a half-baked incantation, no answering blue sparks came from his fingers. Empty. His stores of magic were completely empty. He had nothing. Nothing up his sleeve. </p><p>
The world spun drunkenly, and the sky disappeared. All Magnus could see was the water below, in constant roiling motion, punctuated by sharp rocks. It would be an unpleasant final impact. Three hundred years of life, and he would die because of a fit of pique brought on by an ex-lover’s well-meaning advice.</p><p> 
Alec’s face flashed unbidden through his mind. No matter how angry he was with him, no matter how deeply wounded, Magnus had never really stopped loving him. Which of course had only made the anger and hurt worse. But even when he had ended the relationship, he knew that his dying thoughts, whenever death arrived, would be of Alec. He just hadn’t anticipated his death coming so soon. Or Alec actually being present to witness it. <i>So sorry, my darling.</i></p><p>
Then Magnus felt long, calloused fingers wrap around one ankle. Callouses created by long hours with a seraph blade and a bow string. Magnus knew that hand better than he knew his own. His descent halted abruptly, but the momentum of his fall continued, and he swung like a pendulum towards the cliff. The back of his head cracked brutally against the rock wall. He heard the odd, hollow sound of impact a moment before he felt the pain. </p><p>
<i>God, it hurts.</i> The world fell away in splinters, and Magnus was falling again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Nowhere to run, somewhere to hide</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Alec has to find a way out for him and Magnus.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Alec didn’t think the situation could get any worse, and he wasn’t sure how to prioritize their catalogue of current obstacles.</p><p>
Obstacle number 1: Alec couldn’t move. The weight of Magnus’s body, the constant threat of gravity, and the fragile cliff edge effectively bound him in place. Alec lay facing the sky on the very edge of the cliff, the pack he had filled with weapons and supplies back at the Institute smashed uncomfortably beneath him. His right hand extended over the cliff edge above the sea, wrapped desperately around Magnus’s ankle, who dangled below. Alec’s left hand dug into the ground, through thin grass and chalky soil, providing the only anchor that prevented Alec, and consequently Magnus, from sliding off the cliff. His body was taut and rigid, resisting the ever-present pull towards the edge. It was an untenable position that he could not maintain forever.</p><p> 
Obstacle number 2: the demons weren’t going anywhere. They swirled above him, swooping down closer from time to time as if surveilling the scene. He felt certain that it was only a matter of time before they organized themselves into some sort of attack formation. And Alec had no way to fight them. To get to his feet, draw his bow, or wield his blade, he would need at least one of his hands. If he released his left hand, Magnus’s weight would pull them both off the cliff. And if he released his right hand—</p><p>
<i>Unthinkable.</i></p><p>
Obstacle number 3: they had nowhere to go. Even if he could stand and fight, there were far too many demons. He and Magnus had already been outnumbered before Magnus decided to storm right up to the edge of a slowly disintegrating cliff, and Alec had been scouting for some option of retreat. And while he hadn’t had long to look and certainly had no ability to do so now, he had seen nothing. No shelter. No cover. They were utterly exposed.</p><p>
Obstacle number 4: Alec wasn’t sure he could pull Magnus up. Under ordinary circumstances, his strength rune would have made such a task perfectly doable, if not easy or comfortable. That Alec was holding Magnus by one hand in an awkward position made the situation harder, but that was not an insurmountable problem. The true complication was that Alec’s grip on the cliff was increasingly shaky. His left hand had long since dug through the thin top soil and had reached the hard layer of rock beneath. His nails were scraping against stone, which gave him no purchase. He could feel his body, millimeter by millimeter, edge slowly towards the brink. And any attempt to move seemed to accelerate his progress. He scrabbled desperate at the stone of the cliff, and felt a nail break against it.</p><p>
“Magnus?” he called. “Any ideas?” Silence. Alec tried not to panic. “Magnus!” Still nothing.</p><p>
Obstacle number 5: Magnus was unresponsive. He shoved the sick swoop of dread he felt at this to the back of his mind. That emotion was unproductive.</p><p>
Above him, the demons screamed, and one swooped down the side of the cliff, making a haphazard approach at Magnus’s inert body. Without halting its flight, the demon wrapped its tail clumsily around Magnus, attempting to tear him away from Alec. Alec shouted in challenge, tightening his grip.</p><p>
The wrenching force of the demon was incredible; a cruel spike of pain shot through Alec like a sledgehammer. He felt his right shoulder pop loose from its socket with an odd internal <i>click.</i> The only thing that saved Magnus was that the demon’s tail was not quite fully prehensile, and the loose grip it could form around him didn’t hold long enough to rip him from Alec’s stranglehold on his ankle. Magnus’s body swung wildly on Alec’s arm, and Alec’s elbow bent back abnormally. Alec’s battle cry turned into an agonized scream as he felt muscles and tendons tear. The demon, hearing the scream, whipped back around, pressing its advantage. Alec felt the air of its talons rake dangerously close to Magnus, but the thing seemed to be having trouble steering in the unpredictable updrafts of the oceanside cliffs; instead, its talons grazed Alec’s right hand and tore up his arm, cutting deep. Alec felt bone splinter with an almost delicate staccato of agony, and his fingers began to loosen involuntarily.</p><p> 
Alec gritted his teeth. <i>Never.</i></p><p>
He made his choice. Better a calculated risk than a complete loss of control. He wrapped his left hand around whatever grass and roots he could find, and flexed his right arm.</p><p> 
The pain was excruciating as muscles that had been exhausted and pulled beyond their measure were forced into laborious motion. Alec’s elbow was wreathed in fire, and his shoulder seemed disconnected from his body. But his arm unwillingly obeyed him, and ever so slowly, Alec pulled Magnus up the cliff face until he was clutching Magnus’s hand to his chest, his body now poised just below the cliff’s edge. His left hand, still buried in the earth, felt warm and wet, but Alec couldn’t tell if it was sweat or blood coating his palm. He turned and rolled himself away from the abyss and towards safety, dragging Magnus with him.</p><p> 
When he felt the ground solid and steady beneath them, Alec sat up, gasping, and awkwardly pulled Magnus into his lap with his left hand, which, though crusted with grit and blood, seemed relatively uninjured.</p><p>
“Magnus.” Alec patted his cheek. “Hey, come on, Magnus!”</p><p>
Magnus’s eyes were closed. His body flopped bonelessly on Alec’s, and his head lolled back and forth on his neck. Alec felt something warm and wet on his pants leg where Magnus’s head rested; he felt the back of Magnus’s head and his hand came away bloody. But when Alec felt for a pulse, he could feel it beating steadily beneath his fingers, and Magnus’s breath was even.</p><p> 
At the shrieks from above, Alec looked up and saw the first of the demons begin to dive towards them. <i>We are running out of time.</i> He reached into his pants pocket for his stele. He could do little with his right arm in pieces.</p><p> 
His hand hunted frantically in his pocket. It was empty. He checked the other. Similarly empty. <i>By the Angel.</i> Where had it gone? When had he lost it? Earlier, during the initial skirmish with the demons? Or when he’d lunged desperately towards the cliff face to save Magnus?</p><p> 
	What did it matter? No stele. No healing rune.</p><p> 
	Alec stood, leaving Magnus slumped at his feet. He scanned the cliffs desperately, looking for something, anything, that could provide some cover and trying to ignore the ever-nearing cries from above. If he couldn’t find anything, the best he could do was run, try to capture the demons’ attention, and hopefully lead them away from Magnus. But how long would it take for them to catch him and tear him apart? Long enough for Magnus to come to and portal home? <i>Unlikely.</i></p><p> 
	Just as he was about to give up and start running, his eyes fell on a boulder about 100 yards away that he had already examined at least three times. This time, however, he noticed a point of deeper darkness in the shadow the boulder cast. Odds were, that darker spot was only a ditch. But Alec could swear it looked like the opening of a tunnel.</p><p>
	His mind flashed to the moments just after his briefing for this mission, when he had run into another Shadowhunter by happenstance on his way to the armory. The Shadowhunter, a cerebral man named Harold, had been intrigued by Alec’s comment that he was headed to the Cliffs of Dover. “There are caves and tunnels in those cliffs,” he had said excitedly. “Some built by Churchill, but others are natural. A whole maze underground.”</p><p>
	Alec hunted through his pack and pulled out what the armorers had called a “smoke screen”—something he had grabbed almost absentmindedly as he left the armory, more out of interest than any thought he might really need it. It was a small tube made of glass and metal, and filled with an odd, gray substance suspended between liquid and gas. He’d been told that, if he needed a distraction or some cover, the smoke screen would temporarily hide him, even out in the open. New tech, just developed. Alec hoped it worked.</p><p> 
	The demons were almost upon them. With a quick prayer, Alec broke the tube of the smoke screen at his feet, and suddenly he was in a fog of white smoke. Harmless to him—he could breathe it without issue. But he and Magnus were completely concealed from view. The fog spread quickly, covering 500 yards in every direction. The demons squawked in confusion. Clearly, none had encountered anything like this before.</p><p>
	The reprieve wouldn’t last forever, of course. Alec reached down and wrapped his left arm around Magnus’s chest. He pulled Magnus upright, then kneeled and let him fall limply over his left shoulder. Finally he stood, with Magnus’s head hanging down his back and his feet dangling in front. He took off running, Magnus’s body thumping against his shoulder, every step reverberating through his injured right arm. The smoke was still thick, hopefully hiding the direction in which Alec was running from their attackers above, but all the same he tried to run as lightly as possible. Demons frequently had good hearing.</p><p>
	He neared the boulder and sent the Angel a prayer of thanks. What had, from a distance, appeared to be a small hole in the ground was indeed, on closer inspection, a narrow tunnel, leading straight down into blackness.</p><p> 
	Alec fell to his knees, Magnus falling off his shoulder, and peered down. All was black within. He thought he could just make out a rocky floor some five feet below, but even this was hard to see. The little that was visible provided no promises. If they went down there, there was no guarantee of safety.</p><p>
	Neither, however, was there a guarantee of death. The demons called behind him. The smoke seemed just the slightest bit thinner.</p><p>
	Alec stood again and dragged Magnus upright, awkwardly fitting his legs into the tunnel. He lowered him down, getting down on his knees and attempting to control Magnus’s descent for as long as possible. He felt Magnus’s legs hit the bottom; finally, he had no choice but to drop him. He heard a muffled thump as the rest of Magnus hit the tunnel floor.</p><p>
	Alec crammed his own body into the narrow tunnel and fell.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope everyone enjoys the update!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Safety underground</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Alec and Magnus reach the relative safety of the tunnel.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Alec hit with a hard, graceless impact and bit down hard to prevent a cry at the pain that lanced through his right arm. At least he hadn’t fallen directly on Magnus. He peered around himself, but saw nothing living. The tunnel was low and narrow—about five feet tall and four feet across—and went in one direction, into inky blackness. Alec wondered if he was in a natural tunnel or one of Churchill’s constructions, and then decided he didn’t particularly care.</p><p>
He glanced up at the hole through which they had come, and knew they couldn’t stay directly beneath it. There was always the chance that the demons might spy their movement, even through the tiny tunnel opening.</p><p> 
	Alec stumbled to his feet and bent down, grabbing Magnus around the chest with his left arm. There was no room to pick him up; there wasn’t even room to stand completely. Alec could only drag him clumsily down the tunnel, away from the light from above and the ever-fainter sounds of demon cries. He needed space and safety to examine Magnus—somewhere far enough removed from the tunnel’s opening that the faint illumination of his witchlight wouldn’t be noticed.</p><p>
	Finally, after several minutes of dragging Magnus, his back bent and aching under the low roof, Alec decided, or at least hoped, that he was a safe distance from the entrance. Gasping with pain and exertion, he put Magnus down and opened his pack, hunting for the witchlight. He found it, but after lighting it, left it in the open pack to block part of its glow. The net result was a dim cone of white illumination, just enough to see Magnus’s still body and lolling head, hair blood-matted and sweaty.</p><p>
	The first step with an open wound, Alec knew, was always to bandage it. Feeling just the slightest bit guilty, Alec pulled the scarf Magnus was wearing (a beautiful, delicate length of silk) from his throat and tied it tightly around his head, binding the wound that was still sluggishly oozing blood. Magnus took great pride in his clothes, but even he would yield that practicality won out in circumstances such as these. This done, Alec considered Magnus’s lifeless face and pressed a hand to his forehead. Perhaps it was a trick of the ineffective light, but Magnus looked pale, and his skin was cold and clammy. Alec put two fingers to the soft spot of Magnus’s long neck where his pulse beat—it had sped and seemed just a hair fainter. His breathing, while still even, had also sped and gone shallow.</p><p>
	<i>Shock,</i> Alec realized with a start. <i>His body is going into shock.</i> It was almost unimaginable—Magnus usually seemed beyond such corporeal concerns—but Alec knew that his assumption of Magnus’s immunity was illogical. Warlocks were immortal, but they weren’t invulnerable. Their bodies could be hurt just as humans’ could, and they experienced physical trauma in much the same fashion.</p><p>
	Desperately, Alec tried to remember the proper treatment for shock. There were limited options at the moment. He couldn’t give Magnus intravenous fluids or a transfusion. He tried to remember the very basics—fundamental treatment.</p><p> 
<i>Elevate the lower extremities one or two feet. Keep the patient warm and comfortable.</i> 
	Alec grabbed his pack and shoved it under Magnus’s feet, lifting them off the ground, albeit only by six inches. Painfully, Alec removed his own jacket; his right arm had lost all mobility and sent shockwaves of pain through his body at the slightest jarring. Finally, he managed to pull the sleeve off his arm and spread the jacket over Magnus’s chest. He crawled to Magnus and wrapped his left arm around him, lifting his torso and pulling him against his own chest, careful to bring the jacket with them. He leaned back against the cave wall, holding Magnus for the first time in months. Were he not so scared for Magnus, Alec would probably have been quite happy.</p><p>
	For a moment, Alec thought he felt Magnus unconsciously press himself closer to Alec, leaning into his warmth. He dismissed the thought immediately, but couldn’t stop himself from pressing his lips to Magnus’s temple. He put his fingers to Magnus’s throat, and prayed to the Angel for Magnus’s pulse to slow.</p><p>
____________________</p><p>
	Pain. Magnus’s head hurt. He was dangling, both in the air and somewhere between consciousness and insensibility. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. No magic. Just one hand, painfully tight around his ankle, kept him from oblivion. And oddly, he wasn’t frightened for himself. He knew that Alec would never let him go. But what would that mean for Alec? Alec couldn’t fight demons and save Magnus’s life all at once.</p><p>
	<i>Let go Alec. Let go. Let me fall.</i></p><p>
	Consciousness slipped away again, and the next thing he knew, he was being carried, thrown over a broad, strong shoulder and bumping uncomfortably over uneven ground. Somehow, he couldn’t remember how he had gotten here; his awareness of where he was or who he was with had been crowded out by both the mounting pain in his head and his struggle to breathe while in such rough motion. His head throbbed with every step, and his inhalations sped. He felt blood dripping off the ends of his hair.</p><p> 
	Then he was sliding down and falling into a dark place. Panic swamped him, and he lost awareness again.</p><p>
	Now he was cold. So cold. Cold and clammy and out of breath. And a little scared. Where was he? Why was he so cold? Why was he in the dark? And why could he not seem to get a deep breath? His lungs weren’t cooperating fully, and his awareness of this only made it harder to breathe slowly.</p><p> 
	Someone put an arm around him, and he felt himself partially lifted until he was reclining against something firm and warm. What was that? Whatever it was, it smelled safe. It smelled like home.</p><p>
	Magnus, for the first time in months, for the first time since he had ended his relationship and left Alec in tears, felt at peace. The cold was already receding, as was the fear. He could feel someone breathing, and it was so easy to match his own breaths to that steady rhythm.</p><p>
	Someone pressed his lips to Magnus’s temple and two fingers to his throat. The touch was exquisitely gentle. Magnus trusted it implicitly. He drifted again, perfectly content.</p><p>  
____________________</p><p>  
 Alec felt Magnus’s pulse slow and become steady beneath his fingers, and felt his breathing deepen to match his own. When he pressed a hand to Magnus’s cheek, it was again warm and soft, and no longer coated with a film of clammy sweat. All the same, Alec felt deeply reluctant to let him go. He knew that Magnus no longer loved him, was in fact very angry with him, and justifiably so. For these reasons, he knew Magnus would not be happy to wake up to this embrace. All the same, Alec couldn’t bring himself to release him. Not just yet.</p><p>
After his betrayal with Camille, and the terrible scene that had followed, Alec hadn’t thought he’d ever be permitted to hold Magnus again. Alec had apologized over and over, honestly and completely, knowing he had been utterly in the wrong. While he’d been devastated when Magnus refused to accept his apologies, he had not been surprised. He'd thought himself more or less (alright, mostly less) resigned to the situation, but sitting here in the dark, cold tunnel, hiding from demons and holding his ex-boyfriend, was achingly bittersweet. Like a last meal given to a condemned prisoner.</p><p> 
Eventually, Alec had to acknowledge that he was taking advantage of the situation—taking a liberty to which he no longer had a right. And waking up in a vulnerable, upsetting position was the last thing a likely-concussed person needed. Regretfully, he slid Magnus onto the stone floor of the tunnel, careful to lower his head softly. He straightened Magnus’s limbs, then pulled his sweatshirt over his head, once again negotiating the painful reality of his injured right arm. He folded the sweatshirt and slipped it beneath Magnus’s head as an impromptu pillow. His hand lingered unconsciously on Magnus’s cheek as he straightened his head, trying to leave him in the position least likely to give him a crick in his neck.</p><p> 
Again, Magnus seemed to press unconsciously into the contact, and again, Alec rejected the thought as wishful thinking. He sat back and leaned against the cold wall, shivering in nothing more than his black t-shirt. Nothing to do but wait.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for all the kind comments, and thanks for reading. Hopefully, I'll be able to post another chapter tomorrow.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Face to Face</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Magnus doesn't enjoy being indebted to people. Especially when it's Alec.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Magnus was cold again, but it was a normal, this-room-is somewhat-over-air-conditioned-and-someone-took-away-my-warm-blanket sort of cold. Not the dangerous, bone-deep chill that had felt so frightening. All the same, he missed the warmth, and the sense of security it had brought. Where had that gone? What had changed?<br/>
He was lying on something hard, and he was somehow aware of a faint light shining before his closed eyes. His head rested on a much softer surface than the rest of his body, and something, something thick but flexible, like leather, was spread over his chest like a blanket, keeping his torso relatively warm.</p><p> 
	The blanket smelled safe too. The scent wasn’t as all enveloping as it had been earlier, but it was still reassuring.</p><p>
	Then memory hit him like a ton of bricks. Magnus jolted partially upright, and immediately winced at the answering pain in his head. “Alec!” </p><p> 
	“I’m here.” Alec’s voice was a touch raspy, but steady.</p><p> 
	Magnus immediately felt calmer, until the world started to spin. He put his head between his knees and took several deep breaths, trying not to moan. He thought he could feel Alec’s eyes upon him, but when Magnus looked up, Alec was nonchalantly examining the fingernails on his left hand.</p><p> 
After several moments, the dizziness subsided to a manageable level, and Magnus was finally able to peer around himself. He was in what looked to be a stone hallway, small and narrow. The only light came from Alec’s witchlight, sitting partially concealed inside Alec’s open pack. Before Magnus could ask, Alec said, “We’re underground. Apparently, there are tunnels all through these cliffs. Thank a Shadowhunter named Harold that we are alive. He mentioned these tunnels to me in passing just before we left.” Alec’s voice grew quieter. “We were very lucky. There was a small opening to one of the tunnels not too far from us. Had to use some new tech to cover our retreat. The tech works well, but it was a near thing.”</p><p>
	Magnus felt a small trickle of guilt, remembering why Alexander had had to navigate the situation alone, but pushed it back defiantly. “And what is your plan now? Are we to become mole people and live down here?”</p><p>
	“Ideally, no.” Alec’s eyes went a shade removed at Magnus’s tone, but otherwise he didn’t react. “But there's no harm in waiting a good long while before we go back up there. Remember, there's nowhere to hide on the cliffs. If the demons are still there, they'll see us come out. So it’d be best to be sure they're gone.” Alec paused, then said hesitantly, “Or, if you're able and prefer, we could portal out from down here…”</p><p>
	“I am not able.” Magnus snapped, feeling put out and a bit defensive. His magic was starting to come back—he could feel his reserves slowly refilling—but he still felt weak and depleted, and his head was killing him, and honestly, why was everyone always asking him for something magical? <i>Well, you were hired to come along on this mission for your magic abilities,</i> a corner of his mind pointed out logically. <i>Stands to reason you might be asked to use them.</i></p><p> 
Magnus hated logic and reason. Anger and sarcasm were so much more satisfying. “I’m not sure if you remember, but fighting those winged, scaly things was a bit tiring. Probably all in a day’s work to a great Shadowhunter…”</p><p>
	“Between the two of us, you're the one more likely to be having memory problems at the moment,” Alec pointed out. His tone was infuriatingly mild. “How’s your head?”</p><p>
	“Oh, grand.” Magnus snarled. Somehow, it felt impossible to keep the anger out of his voice. The embarrassment of literally falling off a cliff and having to be pulled back up and carried to safety was catching up with him, and now he was stuck in extremely close quarters with the love of his life who had betrayed him completely. And then had had the gall, the unmitigated temerity, to save his life. All Magnus wanted was to go home and lick his wounds. And maybe get drunk. And he couldn’t even summon the magic for a portal. Maybe if he could pick a fight, he’d feel better.</p><p>
	Alec seemed to have no temper, however. “Headache? Vertigo? Any amnesia?</p><p>
	“Yes, a little bit, and I don’t think so.” Magnus sighed. Being a jerk was no fun if there was no one to join in. He looked down and saw what his head had been resting on. Alec’s sweatshirt. And the blanket, which he had thought smelled so nice, was Alec’s leather jacket. He looked back up and noticed for the first time that Alec was wearing nothing but his t-shirt. As nice as Alec’s biceps looked in the short sleeves, he must have been freezing.</p><p> 
	<i>Oh, fuck.</i> Magnus felt the beginnings of something akin to chagrin. He tossed the sweatshirt at Alec. “Here. You’ll catch cold. Isn’t that something people say? ‘You’ll catch cold?’”</p><p> 
	“I’m fine.” Alec looked away, and now Magnus could definitely see that he was shivering ever so slightly.</p><p> 
	“Damn it, Alexander, I don’t need a pillow anymore! Take your sweatshirt back. And your jacket.”</p><p>
	“Honestly, I’m not cold.” Now Alec’s insistent gaze down the tunnel seemed evasive rather than casual. Magnus could swear Alec was avoiding his eyes. Like he was hiding something, or trying not to admit something. Magnus was abruptly reminded of when Alec had caught the flu—he’d managed to hide the fact from Magnus for almost two days by avoiding him and, when they were together, maintaining an uncharacteristic distance. Magnus later realized this was to prevent him from feeling the fever radiating from Alec’s body. He’d immediately put Alec to bed, ignoring his insistent protestations that he was <i>fine,</i> and <i>of course</i> he was well enough to work. Of course, he had said both these things just before attempting to cough up a lung, which had severely undercut his sincerity.</p><p> 
	Why would the offer of a sweatshirt make Alec cagey? Magnus took a breath and examined Alec, beginning with his long legs, stretched out before him in the tunnel, and moving slowly up to his slim waist and taut chest. <i>Bad Magnus. Focus.</i> Alec seemed… well, tired of course. But more than tired. Almost haggard. And his posture was off. Alexander normally had the perfect posture of a military leader—back straight, shoulders squared. Now, he was leaning slumped over against the wall of the cave, shoulders hunched, and his right shoulder seemed out of balance with his left. <i>Something is definitely wrong there.</i> </p><p>
“Alexander…” Magnus reached out without thinking, gently lifting Alec’s right arm, and Alec gave a soft, involuntary groan, pulling back. Magnus let him, realizing that his shoulder wasn’t the only thing injured. Alec’s elbow was grotesquely swollen, and even in the bleached light of the witchlight, Magnus could see it was turning vivid colors. His wrist was almost as bad off, and his hand was gloved in blood, two fingers skewed in painful, unnatural angles. </p><p> 
	Without thinking, Magnus reached out with just a touch of his magic, assessing the damage more clinically. Dislocated shoulder, broken and dislocated elbow, broken wrist, and two broken fingers. The fingers were complex fractures, with the bones poking through the skin in sharp splinters. Additional lacerations up the arm, worryingly deep, and there was something ever so slightly... corrupted about them he couldn't put his finger on, but didn't like. Significant tearing of tendons and muscles. <i>He can’t move his arm. That’s why he’d rather shiver than put on a jacket.</i> Magnus swallowed. “Where is your stele?” <i>Why in the name of God haven’t you dealt with this?</i></p><p>
	Alec shrugged his uninjured shoulder. “Who knows. Somewhere up in the grass? Fallen off a cliff? All I know is, it wasn’t in my pocket when I went for it.”</p><p>
	Magnus’s chagrin blossomed into shame. <i>Probably fallen off a cliff. Probably happened when you threw yourself after my idiotic ass.</i> Now that he wasn’t busy trying to start a fight, Magnus could see that Alec’s face was tight and pale with pain, his indigo eyes dull with exhaustion. At least Magnus could do something about this. “Ok, give me your arm.”</p><p>
	“No, Magnus.” Alec’s voice was firm. “You said yourself—your reserves are depleted. You need to hold on to what you have if we are ever going to get out of here, not go emptying yourself out again.”</p><p>
	“I can’t let you just sit here...” <i>You’re in pain. I can fix it. Please let me fix it.</i></p><p>
	“I’m fine. None of this is life-threatening.” Alec looked back at Magnus steadily. “I’ll get it handled when I get back to the Institute. In the meantime, it’s nothing to worry about.” He tried for a smile that Magnus found unconvincing. “Seriously, it’s nothing. I’m great with pain. I’m an expert. It’s what I do best.”</p><p>
	Magnus was angry again, only this time he wasn’t sure if it was with Alec or with himself. He tried to think back, tried to summon some sort of recollection of what had happened after he'd fallen, but he had almost no memory after his head had cracked against the cliff. What he did have came through the haze of concussion and unconsciousness. Being carried. Being cold. Feeling safe. “How did that happen?” he asked, gesturing to Alec’s right side.</p><p>
	Alec shrugged his left shoulder again and gazed ever more insistently down the tunnel. “It’s not important.”</p><p>
	That told Magnus all he needed to know. He slumped against the wall and looked down the dark tunnel, mentally telling himself not to cry. <i>I’m an ass. I’m a worm. I’m the lowest thing that ever lived.</i> He kept his eyes trained on the dark. “Thank you.” </p><p>
	Alec studied the floor, and said, “Please don’t ever thank me.” </p><p>
____________________</p><p>
	The next few hours passed slowly. Magnus looked tired, but obligingly refused to close his eyes after Alec informed him that sleep might be dangerous so soon after a head injury. Magnus had complained that this would mean it would take longer for his magic to fully return, but Alec assured him that they were in no rush. Instead of sleeping, Magnus simply stared impenetrably into the dark in a dense silence; Alec wondered what he was thinking about. At first, Alec sat quietly as well, unable to sleep from the pain that now radiated through his entire right side, despite his encroaching fatigue. He had wanted to say more, had wanted to tell Magnus again how very sorry he was, but one of the many things Magnus had told him in the wake of his discovery of his dealings with Camille was to <i>STOP APOLOGIZING,</i> that it was irritating and useless, and so Alec restrained himself.</p><p> 
	Instead, since Magnus himself seemed to be internally miles away, he studied Magnus’s quiet face, its sharp angles and planes catching the anemic light like the fine edge of a knife. At their first meeting, Alec had found Magnus almost otherworldly in his beauty, and the impression only increased every time he looked at him. His eyes in particular—they were almond shaped, surrounded by thick lashes, and golden, radiating light like lamps, with the vertical pupils of a cat. Alec had seen others shudder covertly when they met Magnus’s eyes, but Alec had only ever found them lovely. In both the best and worst moments of his life, those eyes had held him steady.</p><p> 
	The sound of Magnus’s breathing was soothing, and eventually, Alec became somewhat hypnotized by the darkness, the repetitive inhalations and exhalations, and Magnus’s nearness. The pain had long since gone from stimulating to draining, and his body was screaming at him to rest. Alec sank reluctantly into uncomfortable slumber.</p><p>
____________________</p><p>
	It was hours later when Alec felt himself being shaken awake by his good shoulder. He opened his eyes to meet Magnus’s, who was crouched next to him and looking at him oddly. “You’re feverish.”</p><p>
	Alec yawned and said, “I’m fine,” without really assessing whether this was true. In point of fact, he didn’t feel great. His right side felt as if it had been dipped in flame, and the rest of him had gone numb. Like his arm had sucked into it all possible sensation his body could generate. And somehow, the tunnel had become much colder while he slept. But there was nothing to be done about any of it. “You good?”</p><p>
	“Fine.” Magnus didn’t quite smile, but the corners of his eyes crinkled as if by reflex. “I’ve got enough magic back to portal. You ready to go home?”</p><p>
	“I don’t know.” Alec smiled a bit deliriously. “I kind of like the atmosphere down here. It’s grown on me.”</p><p>
	Magnus didn’t say anything, but pressed his hand to Alec’s forehead. His skin was cool and dry. “We need to get you home. Now.”</p><p> 
	Alec scrambled to his feet, or rather tried to, but found himself overbalanced and would have fallen had Magnus not put a quick arm around his waist. “Easy. We can’t stand all the way upright in here anyway.” He leaned Alec against the wall and hobbled, bent almost double, a few steps away, where he began sketching odd symbols in the air outlined in blue sparks. Alec watched, his gaze going glassy and fading into the middle distance. Now that he’d stood, the pain on his right side was spreading through his other extremities, making him miss the lost numbness. It reminded him a bit of what he had felt years ago, shortly after meeting Clary for the first time, when he had been poisoned by the greater demon Abbadon. Magnus had come to heal him that night; he’d saved his life even though he had no reason to trust or like Shadowhunters, and had barely known Alec. Alec remembered feeling lost in agony, looking up at the warlock he’d also had no reason to trust, and trusting him anyway.</p><p> 
He knew he was drifting, but it was hard to stay in the here and now. His head hurt, which made no sense. Hadn’t Magnus been the one with a head injury? But then, at the moment, everything hurt.</p><p> 
A few minutes of muttering and blue sparks later, the portal opened, looking especially eerie in the darkness of the tunnel.</p><p> 
	Magnus came back to Alec, picking up the pack and looping one arm around Alec’s waist. Alec leaned hard against his shoulder, embarrassed to find he needed the help. “Back to New York,” Magnus murmured. “Hold on to me.”</p><p>
	They disappeared into the cacophony of the portal, but Alec didn’t remember coming back out.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. End</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Neither of them want it this way.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Magnus lowered Alec down onto the couch in the living room of his loft. He’d made the executive decision to portal directly here after feeling the heat in Alec’s skin. He could have taken Alec back to the Institute, where he would have been treated in the Shadowhunters’ infirmary, but that would have added the additional step of explaining to a bunch of suspicious Shadowhunters what exactly Alec’s injuries consisted of and how they had happened, all while Alec’s condition worsened, and ultimately, Magnus probably would have been asked to treat him anyway. Despite the Institute’s distrust of Downworlders, they knew that no one was better at addressing demon poison than Magnus Bane.</p><p>
At the moment, however, Magnus Bane was feeling like a complete imbecile. He couldn’t believe he could have been so stupid. Anyone with multiple broken bones could spike a low-grade fever—it was the body’s natural reaction to trauma and the threat of infection. Initially, listening to Alec’s increasingly labored breathing in the tunnel, Magnus had thought (hoped) that was all there was to the situation. Perhaps if the lighting had been better, he would have noticed sooner that the lacerations on Alec’s right arm had never scabbed over, and the bleeding had never stopped. He would probably have noticed the black streaks, angry and frightening, spreading from the lacerations across Alec’s right arm and up beneath his sleeve. And he certainly would have noticed the poison coursing through Alec's arteries, seeking out his heart, had he had the magic earlier to give the wounds a proper inspection. </p><p>
Magnus wondered again how precisely those deep, ragged cuts had happened. They must have been from the talons of one of the demons. Had the injuries been the result of teeth, Alec would have probably succumbed to poisoning long before now. <i>He might have died in that tunnel while I sulked.</i></p><p>
And of course, Alec wouldn’t be in this state at all had Magnus not given in to his temper and practically thrown himself off a cliff. <i>You child. Alec was able to keep it together and work with you without sniping, or doing something dangerous just for the sake of proving he could. Three hundred years old, and somehow you’ve yet to grow up. </i></p><p>
It was hardly a first. Many times, Alec had stood between Magnus and some danger, and many times had paid the price.</p><p>
	Magnus rolled up his sleeves, wishing he weren’t already somewhat depleted. Were he truly being careful, he would have waited longer even to portal back to the city, but of course, Magnus was rarely, if ever, careful. </p><p>
	<i>But God, I am so tired.</i></p><p>
	Then he saw Alec’s blue eyes looking up at him, glassy and distant, and filled with pain.</p><p>
	“Magnus… hurts.”</p><p>
	“I know, darling.” Magnus knelt by the couch and took Alec’s hand, pressing it to his lips for a moment. “I’m going to help with that.”</p><p>
	He pressed one hand to Alec’s forehead and started muttering under his breath, as Alec gripped his hand and screamed. It was going to be a long night. For both of them.</p><p>
____________________</p><p>
	The next morning, Alec woke with the rising sun in his eyes and a crick in his neck, but the fire in which he had writhed for so long was out. He lay sprawled across Magnus’s couch, his clothes sweaty from the fever that had finally broken some hours before. His right arm was lying on his chest, densely bandaged and stiff, but so far as he could tell, nothing in it was broken anymore. His other arm extended off the couch slightly, and someone was holding his hand.</p><p>
	Alec looked to his side. Magnus was kneeling on the floor, slumped against the couch, gray-faced and spent. Even so, he clutched Alec’s hand in both of his.</p><p> 
	For a moment, Alec was immersed in the sort of terror from which he could imagine never recovering, but a quick finger to Magnus’s wrist confirmed that Magnus was still among the living, if completely dead to the world. Magnus did not stir at all at Alec’s movement. He did not wake when Alec stood and carefully bent down to scoop him up into his arms, cradling him for a moment against his chest before carrying him (much more gently than he had been able to on the cliffs) into his bedroom. The bed was, of course, unmade. Even with the luxury of magical housecleaning, Magnus could be endearingly messy.</p><p> 
	Though now that Alec had a chance to look around, it seemed the loft was more than messy. The entire place was dusty and smelled stale. The curtains were all drawn, and take out containers had piled up in the garbage. It looked less like the cluttered home of a genius warlock and more like a hole to shut out the world.</p><p>
	Alec lay Magnus down in the bed and removed his jacket, shoes, and belt, then pulled the duvet up to his chin, tucking it around him securely. He ran his hand through Magnus’s hair, and once more thought he felt Magnus lean into the touch. He sat on the edge of the bed and studied Magnus for several minutes, not touching him, but simply trying to commit every feature to perfect memory. He noted that Magnus’s left eyebrow was ever so slightly higher than the other (hinting at Magnus’s habit to quirk said eyebrow in skepticism or inquiry). He noted the delicate furrow between his brows, and smoothed the line with one finger. He reflected sadly that he would probably never have the chance to examine Magnus Bane ever again without interruption or judgment, and he was loath to have this stolen moment end.</p><p>
After staring into Magnus’s face for much longer than he cared to admit, even to himself, Alec forced himself up and went back out into the living room, closing the door softly behind him. He found dusty cleaning supplies in a tiny, forgotten closet in a forsaken corner of the loft. It took him well over two hours to clean and polish every speck of the apartment until it was immaculate. Finally, he replaced the cleaning supplies, made a pot of coffee in the high-quality coffee maker that Magnus had gotten purely so Alec wouldn’t have to feel guilty for drinking coffee summoned (stolen) from bodegas, and took the garbage out as he left.</p><p> 
	When he slipped back in with a bag of pastries to leave on the counter, there was still no sign of movement from the bedroom. Alec closed the door and locked it behind him.</p><p>
____________________</p><p>
	Magnus woke to the smell of coffee and the sensation of confusion. He was in his bed, with no memory of how he had arrived there. He had been positioned on the side he most liked to sleep on, with the duvet and covers pulled up warmly about him, and his shoes, belt, and jacket removed, but nothing else. He turned to one side and saw a note sitting on the bedside table, propped against a lamp where he couldn’t miss seeing it.</p><p>

	<i>“Magnus, </i></p><p>
  <i></i>
</p><p>
  <i></i>
</p><p>
  <i>

Coffee in the kitchen, pastries on the counter. Eat something please.</i></p><p>
  <i> 
	Text me if you feel like it to let me know you are alright.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>
	Thank you for saving my life, again.</i>
</p><p><i>
	I’m sorry. I love you. Don’t need to answer that.</i>
</p><p>

	No signature. It was unnecessary. There was only one person from whom it could be, and in any case, Alec knew Magnus would know his handwriting. Magnus thought about crumpling the note up and throwing it away, but instead left it sitting where it was.</p><p>
	The living room, when Magnus tottered unsteadily out, was pristine. The dust and grime and old Chinese cartons were gone, and the curtains had been thrown open, with a few windows cracked to let in fresh air. The garbage had been emptied, and the myriad throw pillows and blankets neatly arranged. </p><p>
He went to the kitchen, which apparently had been scrubbed within an inch of its life, and poured himself a cup of coffee. A white bag from his favorite nearby bakery sat on the counter, and he pulled out a pain au chocolat. He bit into it, feeling no hunger. Slowly, he went out to the balcony of his loft and watched the sunlight refract off the windows of the Brooklyn brownstones, thinking about nothing and refusing to acknowledge why he felt so empty.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Comments are always appreciated!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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